Muskrat Ramble

Written by Lang Elliott on March 18, 2011 · 5 Comments

Ever heard a muskrat squeal? Well, I had no idea they even made any sound until I heard the following recording by my buddy Ted Mack. During a visit to Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge during the spring of 1994. One morning, Ted set his soundscape microphone in a grassy marsh. To his amazement, a pair of muskrats soon swam by, squealing excitedly at one another and then diving into the water:

Muskrats giving squealing calls in marsh; possibly courtship behavior. Early am, 30 April 1994, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge, Nebraska. Recorded by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

Listen also for the honks of a Canada Goose, the distant hoots of a Great Horned Owl, and the periodic swishing sound of wind blowing the grass,

Quit a unique recording, huh? Wonder why I’ve called it Muskrat Ramble”? If you’re an old-timer you might guess. It’s because my dad used to play a jazz tune by that name, a piece written by Kid Ory and played by Louis Armstrong and his band. Would the real “Muskrat Ramble” please stand up …

Muskrat Ramble by Kid Ory, played by Louis Armstrong's band, circa 1926.0:00 / 0:00

Wings Over The Prairie

Written by Lang Elliott on March 9, 2011 · 8 Comments

We’ve all seen waterfowl flying overhead, but few of us are aware of how much sound they make with their wings.

In 1994, Ted Mack and I embarked on a six-month recording expedition. Our first project was to document the spring migration of waterfowl as they moved northward through the prairie states. For nearly two months, we worked numerous lakes and potholes in shortgrass prairie from Nebraska to North Dakota and Manitoba. One of our favorite spots was Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge in west-central Nebraska. During one of his visits to the refuge, Ted discovered a long and narrow pothole that appeared to be a primary flight path for waterfowl moving between large marshy wetlands at each end. He noticed that duck after duck would fly the length of the pothole, often only ten or fifteen feet above the surface of the water. During a lull in activity, Ted quickly placed his soundscape microphone along the shoreline and then retreated to his pickup truck a few hundred feet away. There he smiled with pleasure as ducks not only flew over the mic, but also landed and swam right in front of it. Here are some highlights from his session, featuring the wing sounds of a variety of species, including Common Goldeneye, Green-winged Teal, Lesser Scaup, and Northern Shoveler:

Wing noises of various species of waterfowl flying over and landing in a prairie pothole. 8 am, 23 March 1994, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge in western Nebraska. Recording by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

Can you believe the incredible whooshes made by the ducks in flight? I was shocked when I first heard these sounds. Sure, I had heard the musical twittering of beating wings and some measure of swishiness, but never anything so powerfully loud as what Ted has documented. Good job Ted!!

Let me help you identify some of the sounds. The musical wing twitter or whistle that is prominent about a third of the way through is made by the Common Goldeneye (also called “The Whistler”). Listen also for the loud musical peeps of Green-winged Teal, heard right after the Goldeneye. The odd nasal notes heard at various points are made by Lesser Scaup—a small group was swimming not far from the microphone. About halfway through, listen for a male Ring-necked Pheasant that cackles and then shakes his wings. About two-thirds the way through, a Northern Shoveler takes flight and makes calls that sound like chux, chux, chux.

So whatya think of these amazing sounds? Please leave a comment and let me know.

Wapiti Wailings

Written by Wil Hershberger on March 8, 2011 · 5 Comments

Although I don’t get to hear it all that often, one of my favorite sounds is that of our native elk bugling during the fall rut. Wapiti, as it is know to the native Americans, is a formidable creature. Adult elk are avoided by even grizzly bears as those massive antlers can mean terrible injury or even death. Many an unwise tourist has been introduced to the business end of those ivory tines and learned the hard way – keep your distance.

During the fall the elk are in rut. Males wail night and day trying to attract a harem and defend it from other males. Watching one of these beasts bugling instills in the viewer the shear power required to create such a wonderful sound that can be heard for miles. In the still darkness of 3am on September 23, 2010, I was in a large meadow just east of Jackson Lake in Grand Tetons National Park, Wyoming. The cataract at the dam of Jackson Lake can be heard in the distance as well as great horned owls and the single yelp of a canid – perhaps a wolf. There are several male elk spread out from very close to where I was standing (you can hear him munching on grass) to many hundreds of yards in the distance. The hills in the area reflected the screams, creating a wonderful echo and reverberation.

An ethereal early morning chorus of elk bugling near Oxbow Bend of the Snake River. Grand Tetons National Park, WY. ©Wil Hershberger, 3AM, Sept. 23, 2010.0:00 / 0:00

Even though this is a rather sterile recording composed of just a few species, I really enjoy the sense of space and the feeling of loneliness that can be palpable in these locations. What do you think? I certainly hope that you enjoy this recording as much as I.

Breezy Wheezy Singer

Written by Lang Elliott on March 6, 2011 · 16 Comments

The songs of our native thrushes are typically described as being flutelike and ethereal. This description works pretty well for Wood Thrush, Hermit Thrush, and even Swainson’s Thrush, but it isn’t accurate when it comes to the songs of the Veery, Gray-cheeked Thrush, and Bicknell’s Thrush. These latter species have ethereal and musical songs, for sure, but even the flute of Pan could not come anywhere close to imitating them (at least I don’t think). No, I wouldn’t call them flutey, but I would certainly characterize them as being breezy, wheezy rambles of silvery, musical, and reedy notes.

It my opinion, the song of the Bicknell’s Thrush is the breeziest and wheeziest of them all. Found in high altitude spruce forest in the mountains of the Northeast, the scarce and reclusive Bicknell’s is not an easy thrush to record. Ted Mack and I have tried a number of times to get acceptable soundscapes on Whiteface Mountain in the Adirondacks, but we have usually failed. However, in mid-June of 2000 I got lucky. Just before dawn, I set my microphone next to a small brook, not far from the summit. A Blackpoll warbler soon began singing, along with a Winter Wren. Not long after, I heard the call of a lone Bicknell’s off in the distance. Then, to my absolute delight, he flew in close, called loudly, and then did his breezy, wheezy thing for several minutes before silently vanishing into the wilds:

Bicknell's Thrush calls and songs, with Blackpoll Warbler and Winter Wren. 6am, 13 June 2000, Whiteface Mountain near Lake Placid, NY. Recording © Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

I’m wondering what you think of this bird’s song. How would you describe it? Let me hear your words. Does it sound “flutelike” to you? Is “breezy” and “wheezy” accurate? Imagine this is a contest of words, and the winner will get a free trip up Whiteface this coming June (I’m not sure who’ll pay for that, but it’s a nice idea, isn’t it?).

The Clucking Munk

Written by Lang Elliott on March 2, 2011 · 11 Comments

Oh my, what praytell shall I post this evening? It’s been a long, busy day, so whatever I do can’t take too much effort. Let me see what I have sitting here on my desktop (computer desktop, that is). Hmmmm … how about a recording of … a couple of Eastern Chipmunks giving “aerial predator alarm calls” in response to a Broad-winged Hawk perched in a nearby tree, the hawk giving its penetrating alarm whistle because it could see me sitting there with my headphones on, a few hundred feet away? (FYI, I had set my microphone close to the hawk’s nest just to get his alarm screams; the two chipmunks that started calling off to one side were a complete surprise.)

Will this be exciting enough for everyone, or have I pampered you so much that it won’t impress at all? Well, whatever, here it is:

Eastern Chipmunks giving aerial predator alarm calls in the presence of a Broad-winged Hawk that is also calling. 9am, 27 June 1995, in hardwood forest near Ithaca, New York. Recording © Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

This is quite an instructive recording. The “clucking” of the Eastern Chipmunk is, in fact, given in the presence of aerial predators such as hawks or day-hunting owls. Guess who discovered this? Yep, ME, yours truly. Way back in the mid-1970s, for my masters degree in Animal Behavior and Ecology at the University of Maryland, I studied the social behavior of a population of chipmunks in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. I made lots of interesting discoveries and described many aspects of their social life that nobody else had witnessed, but figuring out that the hollow cluck-calls are given in the presence of aerial predators was perhaps my most important contribution to their natural history.

At first I had no idea what it was about. I’d hear one chipmunk start clucking, then another, then another, as a “clucking bout” seemed to spread through the forest along a path. It wasn’t until autumn and spring, when the leaves were no longer on the trees, that I was able to put it all together. Seventeen times altogether I was lucky enough to see hawks fly by—mostly Broad-winged Hawks, but also Cooper’s Hawks and even a Goshawk—and in every instance clucking gradually erupted along the flight path of the hawk. When chipmunks gave these calls they became alert, and often sat still on a log, rock, or stump. As you might suspect, an alert chipmunk does not make good prey. If a hawk were to swoop at one, the perched chippie would see it coming and dash to safety.

Why do chipmunks give these calls when they see an aerial predator? Well, I’m not totally sure, but it might have something to do with altruism and genetics, with the “relatedness” of neighbors in the forest habitat. Biologists theorize that if neighbors are related, then it’s a good idea to alert your neighbor of danger, as long as it’s not too dangerous to do so. From an evolutionary perspective, this means that the calling chipmunk is helping pass on its genes, by helping neighbors that share genes . . . or something like that. In addition to the relatedness hypothesis, it is also possible that the sound simply tells the hawk that it has been spotted, that it won’t fare well here, and that it might as well move on down the road.

If you’re interested, you can download a hi-resolution PDF of my original study, provided online by Smithsonian Institution:

Elliott, Lang. 1978. Social Behavior and Foraging Ecology of the Eastern Chipmunk (Tamias striatus) in the Adirondack Mountains, Smithsonian Contributions to Zoology, Number 265, Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C.

Wrensong

Written by Lang Elliott on February 13, 2011 · 16 Comments

When I launch my soundscape series of products, I plan to include a title called “Songbird Portraits,” which will include recordings of a variety of my favorite singers. These will differ from most of my other soundscape recordings in that individual singers will be prominently featured, even though embedded in a wide soundscape.

The following recording of a Winter Wren is a good example. The male was singing from the top of a tall conifer next to a babbling brook and I was excited by the pleasurable mix of sound. The wren’s complex and silvery song was prominent but not overwhelming. The gurgling of the brook sounded nice to my ear. What’s more, there were two Wood Thrushes fluting in the background. Everything went well, except that while setting up I tripped over the microphone cable, lost my balance, and fell into the stream! Hrmph! No damage done, thankfully, and I managed to get my recording with a smile on my face:

Soundscape portrait of a Winter Wren with a babbling brook, Wood Thrush, and other bird songs, 6am, 9 May 2006, Shindagin Hollow near Brooktondale, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

I would like some feedback here. I believe most folks will like the sound of this recording, but I wonder how long they might want to play it. Would it get tiring to listen-to after a few minutes?

For relaxing soundscapes, I intend to offer tracks that are five to ten minutes long. But for species portraits like this one, my hunch is that tracks should should be shorter, perhaps lasting around three or four minutes. What does everyone think? One advantage of making species portraits rather brief is that I could cover more birds and include fifteen or more species portraits in the one title (for a total of 60-70 minutes). Or maybe that would be foolish. Maybe a recording like this should last five minutes or more. Whatya think?

Pasture Dawn

Written by Wil Hershberger on February 12, 2011 · 10 Comments

Hello, Wil Hershberger here. One of my favorite times of day is dawn. From first light through sun-up, as the world awakens and song returns to the earth I get a feeling of renewal, of rebirth. I feel invigorated for the rest of the day.

A particularly magical morning occurred last summer near my home at a large pasture along a lonely country road. There were American toads singing from a pond in the distance and grassland birds were singing from the field. Not far to the right was a copse of trees that supported a variety of open habitat birds. It was still well before sunrise when I started this recording. Grasshopper sparrows were the most vocal and evident species. Spring field crickets, American robins, tufted titmouse, American crows, red-bellied woodpeckers, American toads and green frogs can all be heard in the background, along with cows mooing near the end. I particularly enjoyed the counter singing of the grasshopper sparrows as these males vie for mates and sing to the world that this spot in the pasture is theirs.

Grasshopper sparrows in pasture. Berkeley County, WV. May 23, 2010. ©Wil Hershberger.0:00 / 0:00

What do you think? Are the grasshopper sparrows too loud? Is the presence of cows a turn off or do you like them? This is the time of the year when farmers separate the calves from their mothers and I don’t think that she was very happy with this situation! I was really impressed that I was able to record for nearly 20 minutes without a jet, car, truck or dog contaminating the aural beauty.

Beaver Mumblings

Written by Lang Elliott on February 10, 2011 · 8 Comments

It is difficult to capture great soundscapes that feature the voices of mammals. Why? Because most mammals keep pretty quiet as they go about their business. Sure, coyote and wolf packs sound off with great enthusiasm every now and then, squirrels and chipmunks chatter and chip when excited, and deer snort and bound away when alarmed. But for the most part, mammals are a quiet lot and it is a true gift when we humans get hear their more intimate mumblings—sounds they make as they “talk to one another” in social situations (for example: calls given during courtship and mating, sounds made by parents communicating with young, and the talkings between young in groups).

The following recording puts your ear at the entrance to a beaver den.

It was early September of 1994 and I was sitting at the edge of a small beaver-dam pond in a forested area near Ithaca, New York. It was almost midnight when the mumblings began. Listen for a breathy growl followed by scraping sounds, and then finally the animated moans of young beaver in and around the den. Notice also the hissy sound of water pouring over the beaver dam at the opposite edge of the pond:

Moaning of young Beaver in and around their den, 11:30 pm, 4 September 1994, Connecticut Hill Wildlife Management Area, near Ithaca, New York. Recorded by Lang Elliott.0:00 / 0:00

Is this cool or what? You’d never guess that beaver make such sounds. I only became aware of the moaning when I camped near a beaver hut one night in the autumn of 1988. On that occasion, I was awakened in the middle of the night by the strange, otherworldly sounds. I pulled myself out of my tent and went to investigate. Sure enough, the muffled moans were coming from inside the beaver’s den. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any recording gear with me. But at that very moment, I vowed to get a great soundscape recording of this utterly endearing sound-event. Six years later, after a number of failed attempts, I finally snagged a great one!

Let me know what you think!

Raven Resonations

Written by Lang Elliott on February 5, 2011 · 5 Comments

Today, I spent some time searching through our sound archives in hopes of finding something special that I had overlooked. I was not disappointed. I uncovered the following wonderful recording of Common Ravens, captured by Ted Mack in Alaska in 2002. I was unable to find the exact date and location, but I thought I’d go ahead and share it anyway.

As you will hear, the magic is in reverberation. When the nearby raven calls, his deep croaks bounce off the landscape, creating a resonant echo that decays ever-so-slowly:

Raven croaks. Recorded in Alaska in 2002 by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

Isn’t this fabulous? It’s a true “dimensional soundscape” in the strictest sense. There are a number of other birds sounding off in the recording. I hear Ruby-crowned Kinglet, American Robin, Varied Thrush, and a distant Sandhill Crane. You tell me who the really high singers are. The woodpecker, I would guess, is a Three-toed (because its drum trails off at the end).

What a terrific find!

Coyote Echos

Written by Lang Elliott on January 18, 2011 · 6 Comments

Way back in 1994 (seems like yesterday), Ted Mack and I traveled for nearly six months, gathering soundscapes and species recordings. While visiting Valentine National Wildlife Refuge in northcentral Nebraska, Ted managed to snag a close-and-clean recording of a coyote barking and howling, with others sounding off in the distance:

Coyote barking and howling, with others sounding off in response, around 4:30 am, 14 March 1994, Valentine National Wildlife Refuge. Recorded by Ted Mack.0:00 / 0:00

This is an engaging recording. The nearest coyote is quite loud, even though I’ve mellowed him down quite a bit. Yes, he’s rather in-your-face, but nonetheless this is a really fine species portrait and the echos of both the close individual and the distant coyotes add considerable depth to the listening experience. I particularly enjoy the group outburst at the end. Listen also for the soft moans of Greater Prairie Chickens and the calls of Canada Geese.

What do you think of this recording? While certainly not in the relaxation category, do you agree that it is compelling and instructive? Though some of the outbursts are loud, they’re fairly easy on the ears, aren’t they? I’m very curious as to how everyone will respond, given that I’ve mainly been posting “easy listening” recordings.

By the way, my plan is to use this rather brief recording (I’ve posted the entire thing) at the very beginning of a title that will be called “Prairie Spring,” which will actually be a re-mastering of an earlier version that I produced years ago. “Prairie Spring” will feature a variety of prairie soundmakers, including Greater Prairie Chicken, Sharp-tailed Grouse, American Bittern, Western Meadowlark, Baird’s Sparrow, and many more.